


six-to-eight weeks

by pepperland



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Gavin is an asshole, M/M, Post Revolution, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, bonding over gruesome murders uwu, fight me, gavin is a good detective tho, no beta we die like men, will add tags as they happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperland/pseuds/pepperland
Summary: When Hank is injured in the field, Connor is left temporarily without a partner. Gavin considers himself the unluckiest person in the world to be stuck with the plastic for the next six-to-eight weeks while the Lieutenant heals. However, when a case ends up taking an unexpected turn, he'll have to swallow his pride for a little bit to get the job done. And maybe, just fucking maybe, he'll come around thanks to big brown eyes and a computer brain.There's unf and tension and maybe some boners eventually with some occasional crime solving.





	1. Chapter 1

He can only remember twice before when Fowler’s blacked out his windows that didn’t involve sensitive information. Yea, sure, if the feds come to debrief him on something the rest of the precinct didn’t need to know, he’d tint the office, but rarely just to keep someone’s bullshit away from the precinct. Hank’s gotten it, once. Gavin could remember laughing at his desk while the two old fucks went at it for almost an hour. 

He doesn’t even notice halfway into his rant to the Captain that afternoon that now, it’s his turn to get the black box treatment, and he’s possibly two shitty remarks away from being suspended. Or worse, losing his job. The argument means nothing. When Fowler assigns something, that’s it. That’s the end of it. Even Gavin knows that but the prospect of working with a plastic had him blowing up before he could stop himself. He doesn’t need a partner, he works just fine with Chris when he has too, there’s no fucking reason for it, etc etc.

Actually, now there is, especially when handling android/human cases, which is a large bulk of their workload post-revolution. Something about legal rights, needing one of each present during questioning and crime scenes…Fowler made sure to let him know even Gavin Reed isn’t above the law, however newly established it may be. 

_“And, need I remind you, you’re an_ officer _of the law. So suck it up, or give me your badge. Either way, get the fuck out of my office.”_

And that was that. Gavin made a point to, _very angrily,_ saunter out of the office and knock his hip against Connor’s terminal on his way back to the bathroom. Honestly it hurt him more than it did anything to annoy Connor, but it’s the principle of the matter. He’s sulking at his desk over a case file he finished an hour ago when pretty boy android is there staring at him. Ramrod straight, hands behind his back, always this look of efficiency and standard. He may have "free will" or whatever now and Gavin can recognize the guy as his own person but that didn't mean Gavin had to fucking like him. So he doesn't. 

"Good morning, Detective Reed. I trust your conversation with the Captain was informative, and that you are...aware of our _situation."_ Officer-Ken-Doll blinks, even though it's totally unnecessary. It only pisses him off more.

“Yea, I’m fuckin’ aware,” is Gavin's reply, “and lets get one thing straight; I’m not Anderson. M’not a washed up old fucker who needs someone to hold my hand, got it? S’far as I’m concerned, this is glorified babysitting.” He’s standing to pull on his worn leather jacket, shoving his chair back under his desk so he can make for the front of the precinct and out the door. Whether Connor follows or not is none of his concern. But he continues speaking anyway, fully expecting he will.

“You get in my way? I’ll run you over, I don’t give a damn what Fowler says. You follow my lead, and do what I say. I've been doing this before you were even a floppy disk.”

Connor, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, does indeed follow him out into the precinct's connecting parking garage. He can hear the second set of footsteps echo in the building behind him.

“Actually," the RK unit walks a little faster, so he can be within eye-line of the detective, "Floppy disks were out of use long before much of my technology was even developed, so none of it has likely even touched one. Not to mention, to store any useful amount of my software, you would need well over five thousand floppy disks. Even just my metadata wouldn’t fit on a single one.” and then there's that stupid little half-grin he has no idea where the bot learned. 

The _only_ reason Gavin finds himself tolerating Connor giving him shit, the _only_ reason he's not pulling his gun and shoving it in that smart-ass mouth is the same reason Gavin found himself tolerating Connor more and more after the revolution. Maybe even _like_ the android on his good days but he'd never admit it out loud. It's because, deep down, in the very insecure recesses of his mind, Gavin has admitted to himself that Connor could have killed him. Down in evidence, when he pulled a literal gun on the guy's back and _shot_ at him, Connor dodged him with ease. And he's the best shot in the unit (no really it's true his ego has nothing to do with that one), Connor easily evaded and disarmed him. He could have responded to the threat and eliminated Gavin. _Shit,_ it's what Gavin had come in there to do in the first place. He expects everyone to act how he would, but Connor didn't. He just...karate chopped him into nap-time, the detective waking up twenty minutes later to FBI agents shining flashlights in his eyes, and a bruised jaw that only seconded the bruise to his ego. 

Other than that? His overall hatred for androids, for _everyone,_ is taking some time to subdue. Yes, he gets they have rights now, and yes, he can at least believe they feel shit but _no,_ he’s not thrilled he’s got to prove himself better to more people than just his equally shitty human counter parts. He’s not in the least bit thrilled to hear Connor’s little sassy comeback about floppy disks like he actually _needed_ any of that stupid information to begin with. Gavin’s anger only smolders, the skin prickling at the back of his neck. If he were a hedgehog, his quills would be poised to fucking launch. 

He took _“Android Sensitivity Training”_ or basically _“Bullshit 101″_ because it was fucking required now, which is why he bites his tongue, literally, and keeps moving for the car, but Connor is there to stop him. He's faster than Gavin's angry stomping, and has rounded in front of him to cut off his B-line for the car. Gavin can almost taste blood in his mouth, but he holds his tongue.

“With all due respect, Detective–which frankly isn’t much respect at all–I refuse to stand by and allow you to _manhandle_ our investigations. I'd like to remind you that I am a perfectly competent detective myself, and that you and I are partners; I don’t take orders from you, and I’m not scared of you, either. These cases are too important for me to let your reckless ego get in the way of my progress–you and I are _equals,_ Gavin. You’d do best to remember that over the next six-to-eight weeks while Hank recovers.”

He doesn’t punch, his first instinct, because he’s _not_ losing his job thanks to this hunk of plastic, but Gavin doesn’t stop himself from reaching out both hands to grab the insufferable know-it-all by the collar of his jacket. Close enough to the car now, he pushes Connor back against it. He may have android strength, but Gavin is by no means a weak, frail man. 

“The only reason I’m not punching your mouth closed is ‘cause you aren’t worth my job,” his teeth are clenched when he speaks, “Android bullshit aside, I’m your _superior officer._ I don’t give a _damn_ how good you think you are, try _existing_ for more than a year, on the force for more than that, and then you can start telling me who’s manhandling the investigation. You’d do best to remember _that_ over the next six-to-eight- _fuckin’_ -weeks.” his point across, Gavin releases the stuffy jacket collar. Connor's led is swirling yellow again, a flash of red there somewhere in between but not long enough to alarm him. Did Connor even think he was a threat? Probably not, but he doesn't care. 

The car beeps twice to signal its been unlocked. Gavin has pulled the small fab from his pocket, rounding the vehicle to sit in the driver's side, “Get in. We’ve got a homicide across town."

Gavin pretends not to watch out of the corner of his eye as Connor adjusts his tie and takes in what looks to be a breath that he doesn't need, before following Gavin into the passenger side of the car. In one of the smartest moves he's done since he showed up at the DPD, the RK unit says _nothing_ in response to Gavin's little tirade. Which is good for him because Gavin really doesn't feel like getting into all of this. At least, he can focus on the job. The job always helps distract him, he can lose himself in it. Not to mention, Gavin is blasting music as loud as it can go as soon as they're on the road, preventing any further conversation from happening.

The loud prog-rock tracks playing from his phone help him focus, believe it or not, running over some details he was given briefly before he was promptly told he'd be having a plastic partner that day. He's been so pissed at the time, it was hard to recall all the details but, he should get by just fine--

“My latest reports say the home is owned by one Deborah Jane Miller, 56. There are two victims inside, one deceased android and the other injured, Ms. Miller," Connor has reached forward, turned down his music of all fucking things, to refresh some details, "her injuries are not life-threatening, and she’s been stabilized by paramedics. Officers have attempted to question her, but she’s… hysterical. Unable to give a clear response. The scene is still largely unprocessed, and judging by the time the call came in, we’re likely beginning to lose visible traces of thirium if we cannot clear the area to process the scene in a timely manner.”

He'd be more pissed about the fucker _touching is radio_ of all things, if the little refresher wasn't something needed. He only lets himself contemplate the potential of Connor being able to read his thoughts before dismissing it all together. Thankfully, they pull up to the scene not long after that. 

It's a quaint little house smack in the middle of lower-income housing. Not the worst part of town but not the best, what some would consider a "cozy" middle ground. There weren't any dilapidated houses on the same street, and none of the street-lights were broken, so that's a plus. It even had a little yard. Gavin steps out of the car first, watching the small yard buzz around with forensics, photographers, there's another few beat cops on scene too, taping off the area. Fingers reach for his inside jacket pocket, pulling out a small leather-bound notebook, a pocket-sized pen attached to the cover. Immediately, he jots a few things down on a fresh blank page; initial scene processing, area, time of day, all the regular bullshit. Only when he finishes does he notice Connor is still standing on the other side of the car. He hasn't moved, he's just... _watching_ the detective's hands, that led swirling, swirling yellow. 

"Well? Get a move on." 

If he wanted to say something, Connor doesn't. Instead, he's heading up toward the house first. Gavin is not long behind, though does take his time to survey the scene as they approach.

The front bay window is broken but no glass shards are on the front lawn. _Intruders broke the windows to get in._ A quick jot down, Gavin’s eyes glance back up as they walk the cobblestone pathway leading to the front door. There’s no marks on the front of it, no cracks in the sealing; _Intruders didn’t even try the door._ The scene inside the front foyer is, for lack of a better term, a science fictional nightmare. 

Blue blood is everywhere he can see, spattered on stark white walls and making the cheap, fake wood flooring slippery to walk over. Already he knows this must have been recent, for they’re still able to see the bright blue puddling in places, though for how much longer he isn't sure. Just past the small entry-way, the words _ANDROID FUCKER_ are written in thirium on the floor in big, capitol letters. Gavin tentatively steps over the message.

The foyer opens right up into the main family room, where a tv is smashed and the upper torso of an android rests in the middle of the space, as if placed there for some sadistic ritual. There's a partial boot print on what's left of the shoulder cavity and floor beneath it, making it seem as if someone has held it down, and simply yanked the android's arm from its socket. Everything on what's left of the chassis is broken. The rest of the android’s body, Gavin can only assume, is scattered about the house. There are trails of thirium on the wood flooring leading out of the room in different directions. 

Screams echo down a hallway to his left where a trail of blue blood leads; the woman Connor spoke about, no doubt. He can hear forensics trying to calm her, tell her she _has to get up, ma’am--_ but she just continues to sob. Gavin takes once glance from Connor, who seems silently engrossed in the crime scene, before he’s moving down the hallway without a word. Connor does't seem fit to fight him. It was either go over android anatomy he knows next to nothing about, or soothe the next-of-kin or _whatever_ it's called for androids. The latter, Gavin's done plenty of times.

The hallway is short, it doesn’t take long for Gavin to find the source of the commotion, following the trail of thirium into what looks like, at first glance, an office room. Or, _was_ one. like the rest of the home, things inside are destroyed. A desk turned over, a computer terminal strewn about near-by. There are two forensic specialists in the room, a photographer, and the woman in question. 

She’s a middle-aged woman, with mousy brown hair graying in places. Short. Stout. Someone who looked like everyone's mother. She’s on her knees in the corner of the room, among the broken desk chair and turned over table. She sobs and clutches a severed, mechanical arm to her chest, the limb fully intact down to the fingers. While the fake skin is deactivated, he can still see a shiny gold band around its ring finger. Her sobs are loud and full body, Gavin immediately deduces this was the android’s...lover. Wife? While legal android/human marriages were still being worked through, it was not uncommon for the gesture of exchanged rings to still be practiced by those that remained hopeful. He doesn't fucking get it, but it's not about him.

They’re crowding her, he knows they only have a limited amount of time before the thirium will start drying up completely and they can’t very well let the woman keep a part of evidence. But Gavin immediately shoos the rest of the staff out of the room with a few stern glances and almost no verbal communication. His reputation, thankfully, precedes him, and he gets little to no fight. 

Alone with the woman in question, he recalls the house the call came from, the names on the lease, bits of information they learned on the way, and kneels down slowly in front of her.

“Debbie, my name is Gavin Reed. I’m a detective with the Detroit Police Department,” his voice is calm, quiet, but not condescending. He never raises his tone or changes pitch, and he slowly is pushing forward the badge he’s un-clipped from his belt to show the woman, if she chose to open her eyes, “Nothing I can say to you will make you feel better, I know that. But I can _promise_ you that you don’t want to be here. Not right now. This isn’t how you want to remember him, is it?” 

Debbie is sniffing, snuffling as she tries to cry more tears that just aren’t there. at this rate she’s going to dehydrate herself, but Gavin remains crouched in front of her and waits until she manages to speak. 

She tells Gavin his name was Isaac. She tells him Isaac was her everything. She says Isaac protected her and loved her more than anyone ever had in her life. Isaac liked to pick flowers for her and enjoyed whittling as a hobby. She tells Gavin they were going to get married the second the law was drawn up. And she says the intruders made her watch while Isaac was literally ripped apart. 

He's not a heartless bastard, as much as he wants to debate that. He maybe can't wade through emotions any deeper than a puddle (thanks childhood trauma, real great) and he can't necessarily relate to her grief, their victim’s sadness and anguish is palpable; so thick and so deep Gavin could feel it in his bones just by being beside her. He doesn't understand the relationship but he _does_ believe Debbie loved Isaac with everything she had, and she's incredibly shaken by what's happened. He listens to every sad, heartfelt word, and lets the churning in his gut guide how he speaks to her.

“He didn’t deserve that, Debbie. You don’t deserve this. These guys are cowards and spineless, they aren’t even human. I promise you that I will do _everything_ in my power to bring Isaac justice. But I can’t do that unless you help me. Can you help me, Debbie?” his hands reach out to her, gesturing to the limb she still clutches in her arms. It takes a few moments of confused, sad glances, but eventually she relents, and hands over the arm to him. Gavin makes a point to pull off the ring, and offer it to her. She clutches it in a palm as the gold band is dropped into it, bringing it close to her chest while fresh, hot tears rise to her cheeks.

Connor is in the doorway by the time Gavin has gently and gingerly coaxed Deborah to stand, though he’s unaware how long the android has actually been standing there. He wonders if that LED ever has any other colors, because it's once again an amber hue, though it's not pulsing. Just a solid, bright yellow. Gavin doesn't stop to think about it long, he’s got an arm around Debbie's shoulders, guiding her head against his own to keep her from seeing any more of the carnage that was once her home. He makes a motion for Connor to move out of the way, whispering and shushing the woman while they slowly walk out of the room, Gavin urging her to keep her eyes closed. He prompts her to tell him more good things about Isaac as they shuffle down the hall and out of the house.

It’s about ten minutes, but he gets her outside and with paramedics to treat her various cuts and bruises, even getting a little bit of information out of her as he does so. The thirium hasn't dried up yet, but he's informed their window is closing to take good reference photos for evidence. When he returns to the inside of the home, he’s about to rattle off facts he managed to obtain thus far, but Connor is just staring at him from the hallway. wide eyes. Unmoving. Gavin bristles.

“The fuck is the matter with you? Chop chop, we’ve got less than five minutes before this shit dries up. Start snapping pics with your robo-eyes.”

"...of course," the pause at the beginning is pregnant but Gavin lets it slide, Connor's led is finally settled on blue, "Give me ten minutes to process the scene. We can regroup with theories afterward."

Gavin just rolls his eyes, gives a quick gruff of acknowledgement, and heads back outside to make sure the paramedics have Debbie taken care of, and jot down a few notes of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor is true to his word, and doesn't take much longer than ten minutes to analyze the inside of the home, leaving Gavin to sit with Debbie in the back of an ambulance as they treat her various cuts and bruises. He's already built a rapport with her, she seems more comfortable the longer the detective stays near-by. 

"So you said it was multiple people. Did you see any of their faces?"

Debbie braces herself for a quick pin-prick of an IV in her hand before shaking her head, still clutching the ring for dear life in her free fist, "No. They all wore black ski-masks. There was four of them." 

"Can you remember _anything_ specific about what they wore, Debbie? Anything at all. Even small things can really help us," he doubts she will but it was worth a shot.

"No I...it all happened to fast. One of them hit me in the head and held me down while the other three...they..." her breathing hitches, Gavin can practically feel the tears welling up in her eyes. He goes to shush her, not wanting to upset her further, as a distraught witness was far harder to communicate with, but Debbie looks as if she remembers something. 

"What is it, Ms. Miller?"

"The one that was watching me. He...he had a tattoo on his hand. A red cross with...I think it said 'red blood.' or 'blood something'...I'm sorry it was...I was just so scared--" she's flustered again, pressing her closed fist to her chest over her heart as the tears finally start again. Gavin just makes a quick, soft shushing noise, and presses a hand to her shoulder.

"It's alright, Debbie. That's great. You did really great, this is really going to help." and he actually means it when he says it, taking a few seconds to jot down a quick note in his book. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Connor standing there by the back of the ambulance, finished with whatever it was he was doing. Debbie's ready to be transported to the hospital anyway. Gavin reassures her one more time, squeezes her free hand with his, and then hops out of the back cab, leaving the car to drive off to St. John's. 

"I think we're done here, Detective Reed. I have everything I need, and I'll have forensics collect everything for transport back to the precinct," an arch of a perfect brow has Gavin watching for a second longer as Connor asks, "What are your thoughts?"

Whether or not he was truly affected by their witness, or his sympathetic side won out, it's hard to say, for when he responds to the android it's with his usually tired, jagged expression and quick to accuse tone, "Bet you got it all figured out already, don't you? Why you need my input?" 

"If I didn't value your opinion, Detective, I wouldn't ask for it." 

A pause. If Gavin had feathers, they'd be thoroughly ruffled right now. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and reads off from the page of notes he jotted down throughout the morning. 

"Perps came in through the windows, no sign they even touched the door except to haul ass out. No viable fingerprints in the thirium, intruders were either androids or wore gloves, though I'm going to say humans because one of them had an anti-android league tattoo. From what Debbie described it matches their main logo and brand. That, along with the message left behind and the fact nothing was stolen makes it obvious the League did this. But they've never killed anything before the revolution, was always just...vandalizing and political protests. I guess they've escalated." he doesn't bother to divulge how he has such information about an anti-android organization, because it's no one's business and it's not relevant to what they know now. 

"Since they were human, and it takes a lot of strength to pull apart this kind of polymer," again, not something he bother to divulge in how he knows, "-I'm going to guess they were all males, decent physical shape. At least strong enough to overpower a fully-functional android. This was all done in about...ten minutes, in and out, and it was a real specific message. We should start canvasing leaguers we have on file that have criminal records, and scope the places they meet at most."

When he turns back to Connor, that little mood ring is blink blinking yellow, the best indicator the RK unit was thinking. 

"But you probably knew all that already, didn't you?" because naturally Connor's out to get him. Everyone is. 

It's his natural state to be defensive, angry, paranoid, all things that protect him at the end of the day. It’s got him this far. He’s automatically going to assume Connor finds his input obsolete and unnecessary because why would an android need a pair of human eyes to tell him shit he already knew? Could probably tell from the first second they walked in the door? Androids were supposed to be superior but obey. Now they don’t do the second part, leaving people like Gavin to wallow and toil away until they were no longer needed. That’s how the world was going to be now, or at least that’s what his paranoia would have him believe. Connor wasn’t really here to be his buddy cop partner. He was here to replace him.

"I had no idea the League was involved. I was unaware of their specific brand. Your insight with Ms. Miller has been extremely helpful to this investigation."

And yet Connor just quips back and tells him the opposite, doesn’t refute any of the information he said but rather insists he's helpful. Gavin had been _right._ He knew that, naturally, but Connor does now as well. It's the only reason Gavin finds himself turning around and asking for similar input.

"Well, out with it. What did you find, crime lab?"

"All tested thirium samples came back to the same wk500 model android–our victim, Isaac. I did find and analyze traces of human blood, but there was no specific match in the dna database. Deborah had several cuts, so the blood in the house could belong to her, but we’ll have to collect a sample for comparison before we can confirm or rule it out. I registered at least three different shoe impressions, all of them similar, so it’s possible that some of them were wearing the same size and brand of shoe. You’re correct in assuming the perpetrators were almost certainly human–of the pair, the human was the one left alive, and the message on the wall is indicative of the android’s involvement in the relationship and a human’s willingness to engage in such serving as the catalyst for violence.”

Connor pauses here, as if to catch his breath, which Gavin knows it stupid because he doesn't need to. But there was a brief flash of red in the rk unit's LED. Was he...did this crime scene _bother_ him? Gavin doesn't question it, and Connor goes on.

“I wasn’t able to find anything leading to specific identification of the intruders. They covered their tracks with masks and gloves, and they took any of the weapons they used with them. Aside from a kitchen knife from the couples’ own set used to pin a hand to the bathroom wall, nothing else in the house matched any of the cuts made on the body. They weren’t sloppy–this may be their first murder, but it’s highly unlikely it’s the first crime they’ve ever committed as a unit. It probably started small–vandalism, breaking and entering, petty larceny… things the department may not have fully pursued and viewed as isolated incidents. Was she able to identify the exact number of assailants?”

Gavin nods, "Yea, she said four. Three went after the android, one kept her subdued."

Connor is nodding, filing that information away or whatever it is he does in that robot brain of his. Gavin is ready to leave, pocketing his journal inside his jacket as they walk back to the car. 

"Oh, and Gavin," they're standing opposite each other on either side of the car, peering at the android over the hood, "there is one more thing."

"What? Did you suddenly solve it all by yourself in .5 seconds?"

He could have swore the fucker was _rolling his eyes_ but Gavin chooses to ignore it, "No. It is mostly unrelated to the case. I've just come to the realization that I owe you an apology."

"...What?" had he fucking heard that right?

"In all of our previous encounters, as well as any interactions I’ve witnessed between you and others in the precinct, you’ve been…unpleasant. Crass. Aggressive, even. I made the assumption that you conducted yourself similarly in the field. I often found myself wondering how you were still in possession of your badge, if you were as heavy-handed with your investigations as you are with your fellow officers. But, upon being here with you today, I’ve seen… that you truly do care about your work. About the lives affected by heinous crimes like this. About justice.”

Another pause. Gavin is actually fucking dumbfounded for the first time in awhile.

“I’m… impressed, Detective Reed. Very impressed. And I’m sorry that I passed judgment on you like I did. You’re good at what you do, Gavin.”

He’s…surprised. That's putting it lightly but Gavin can't for the fucking life of him think of another word. Even before Connor was technically a deviant, Gavin still felt like the little know-it-all did thing specifically to overrule him. To piss him off. Granted, Gavin was _always_ pissed off at any given moment, but the RK unit’s need to prove him wrong, or succeed where he couldn’t, never helped that. Couple that with literally getting knocked out in evidence didn’t help matters, either. His grudge against androids only heightened since Connor appeared.

And now he’s says _sorry._ He’s admitting he had little hope for working with Gavin (at least they both thought the same there, Gavin was about as thrilled as Connor was about this whole arrangement) but seeing him actually working has turned him around. Hearing the android expect little to nothing of him aside from the crude and angry persona he amplifies is disheartening, though Gavin is unsure as to why. Isn’t that what he wants? His disciplinary file, while not as big as Anderson’s, had its fair share of instances. But none were due to negligence in the field. It was always…complaints from other officers. Gavin wanted people to hate him. So they would expect little of him, including his friendship. So they would stay the fuck _away_ from him. He worked better alone. At least, that’s what Gavin always claimed. He barked and shoved at anyone who disobeyed him, and that’s how he liked it.

And yet, hearing it out loud…Gavin isn’t sure why it angers him. That he was expected to act as irrationally and quickly on the field as he did off it. If Connor already wondered how on earth he’s kept his badge this long, who’s to say the entire precinct didn’t think the same? More paranoia to try and ignore when he attempts to sleep at night, apparently. He’s not here to prove himself to anyone, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel somewhere, deep down, the desire to do so anyway. To be _useful._

He gets into the car first, sliding into the driver's side so hands settle on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t make to drive right away. Maybe he's a little mad but his stomach flops a little too for some stupid fucking reason. His ears are a little more flushed than they were five minutes ago, the detective fidgeting where he sits. He’s not sure if he wants to be more mad than complimented, or both at the same time, or none at all. He’s not supposed to care what a fucking robot thinks. Not in the fucking least. But he does.

“‘Course m’fuckin’ good at my job,” he goes with, pressing the ignition and driving the car himself just to give his hands something to do, “I told you before we got here, I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve existed, and I know what the fuck m’doing. I don’t need an apology, asshole. I just need you to _work._ ” he’d normally tell the android to shove his apology up an anal cavity he’s not even sure Connor possesses, but for some reason, the bite stops there. He should say more. It looks like he’s going to say more. then, he speaks,

“We’re going to the labor district. Got some people we can talk to.” and he’s turning on the radio after that, music blasting loud in the speakers. A very apparent sign that the conversation was over.

Connor's LED blinks yellow, yellow, before sliding back to blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to punctuate this one, sorry if i missed anything. i'm literally converting it from an rp format so eehhhh i feel like this one reads funny. oh well. connor and gav have a moment uwu

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all hope the style doesn't bother you, this was initially adapted from an rp with a friend. let me know what you think, if you'd like more, etc etc! this is mostly for fun, thus the lax writing style, but i do have quite a bit planned out for this.
> 
> i also might....change the title. not sure.


End file.
